The Five Orange Pins
by Lydiacatfish
Summary: When Francis receives a letter threatening his best friend's life, he is forced to traverse the continent to find five orange hairpins with only vague hints and his own skills of deduction to help him. If he finds them in time, his friend lives. If he doesn't, a murderer from the past will take her bloody revenge. -Sequel to A Study in Roderich, sort of Scandal in Brussels sequel-
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_In which the game presents itself and Francis finds a distraught older brother._

_Dear Mr. Bonnefois,_

_Did it really take you so long to read this letter? You obviously don't care for Miss Dupont very much at all. No, I myself am not Miss Dupont. That poor girl has nothing to do with this letter excepting that she delivered it. _

_You may call me "The Rose". Do not bother finding out who I am, for you never will until I choose to reveal myself to you. All I will tell you is that I am a fan of yours—the biggest fan of yours, in fact. I especially like the cases you do with Miss Héderváry, which is why I am so upset._

_Really, I was beside myself with anger when I discovered the two of you would no longer be working together. So angry, in fact, that I decided I _must _have the two of you start solving cases together again, which brings me to my next point._

_I have released Bella Peeters from prison. I will not tell you how I did so. Do not bother to ask. I will inform you that she is furious, and all she would like to do now that she is free is kill Elisabeta, and then you, for imprisoning her in the first place._

_However, she does not know where either of you are. Luckily for her, I have provided her with clues in the form of five black hairpins scattered around the European continent. I have no doubt she will eventually find Elisabeta, which is why you must find her first._

_You must find the pins before she does. Your hairpins will be orange. Find your five orange pins before Bella Peeters can find her five black pins, and Elisabeta's life is safe. If Miss Peeters wins, there is no such guarantee._

_Do not bother to warn Miss Héderváry. If you do, I will immediately tell Miss Peeters of her location and wherever she decides to go next._

_I do hope you enjoy this little game I've set up. Though, your enjoyment comes second to mine, and with such high stakes, how could I not?_

_Your clue for your first pin is _"Flanders et Wallonia".

_Good luck!_

_-The Rose_

Francis glared at the letter as he wracked his brain for what the clues could mean again and again. Flanders et Wallonia? So Flanders and Wallonia. But what did those two words mean?

Yes, okay, they were regions in Belgium. But was he supposed to _go _there? Was he just supposed to scour every inch of ground in Flanders and Wallonia until he found this mysterious orange pin?

No, that would take too long, and whoever was doing this wanted to get some quick fun out of it, by the looks of the letter. He had to dig deeper.

But there was so much information about the two regions! He could glance at the paper and find out how their economy was doing!

So it was something set in stone, something that would be mentioned along with the most basic of information.

It was time to do some research.

As the marvelous internet had not been invented yet, Francis had to go to the library to do some reading. He pulled a large book on Belgian history off a shelf and coughed as dust clouded around him. Obviously not a very popular book.

Like a true researcher, Francis immediately went for the index. "Flanders, Flanders, Flanders…" he muttered as he ran his finger down old pages, searching for that golden word. He paled when he reached it. There were _dozens _of page references after it!

Time to get reading.

Several hours later, Francis had absorbed far too much knowledge than was healthy about Belgium. It was a lovely country, sure, but he'd been there once and didn't want to go back after what he had to deal with when he was there last.

He'd had Elisabeta with him toward the end, and that was nice, but all the same, catching a deranged mass-murderer in love with her older brother holding a sharp weapon while trying to keep everyone else safe was not a fun thing to do.

He turned what he had learned about in his head. One was French, the other Dutch…one was in the north, one was in the south…one had a rooster, one had a lion…

A rooster and a lion. That sparked something. But what?

A rooster and a lion…a rooster and a lion…

He thought back to his time in Brussels. It was a nice place, even when girls from ages eighteen to thirty were being slaughtered nightly and there were no leads whatsoever. Francis wasn't a young girl, so he had no need to fear.

He'd met some nice girls as well, the relatives of the victims, and he'd managed to keep them safe from the killer—at least, one night at a time.

And he'd found Elisabeta, just as he was crossing that road. She'd run out of a townhouse in her underclothes and the solution to the mystery of the Brussels Butchering fell into his lap. Though the beautiful Hungarian woman had not, to his mild chagrin.

But he was over that now. Wasn't he? Yes, he was. Still, he couldn't help but fondly reminisce on that lovely afternoon. The sun was shining, there was a fresh body waiting for him at the police headquarters, and an angel in very little clothing had landed on him on the intersection of…

What were the street names again?

It was something in Dutch, so he'd had his friend translate it. They were called something silly, something with alliteration…

Rooster Road and Lion Lane.

As in the lion and the rooster of Flanders and Wallonia.

As in the hiding spot of his first orange pin.

He jumped out of his hard, wooden chair, making it clatter on the ground. Other library patrons shushed him, but he ignored them and dashed out the huge double doors of the library to book a ticket to Brussels.

* * *

There it was. The townhouse on the corner of Rooster Road and Lion Lane.

It held few memories, but they were important. Soft, elated, and sharp memories. And more than just the memories, it was the anvil on which his partnership with Elisabeta had forged.

It was for her he was here today. He wouldn't let another person he'd grown close to die.

He'd asked around the neighborhood to see who lived there now. Lars Peeters would have moved since his sister was revealed as a brutal killer, right? Apparently not. He didn't leave much anymore, paying people to fetch his groceries and things he needed for him. No one had really seen him since the trial.

Francis needed to see him now. He'd have the first orange pin.

He knocked on the door. "Hello? I have a question about, er, property values! May I come in?" There was no answer. Francis pushed the door gently, and it opened for him. He quietly stepped inside.

Lars was nowhere in sight. Francis crept around the house, quickly searching the rooms that he came to. There was one left at the end of the hall after ten minutes, and he looked inside.

There was a man lying on a bed. He hadn't shaved in days, and the room smelled. Francis wrinkled his nose. Ugh. Disgusting. Still, he had to bear with it.

"Hello, Lars Peeters?"

The man rolled over and stared at Francis. There was a blue and white scarf bunched over his mouth and nose. He muttered, "What do you want?"

"Ah, my name is Francis Bonnefois, and I'm a private detective based in France—"

Lars snorted. "I know who you are. You arrested my sister."

Francis suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. "Yes. Yes I did."

"What do you want?" Lars grumbled. "Here to arrest me too?"

"No. Actually, I'm here on a sort of mission." Lars said nothing. "Your sister has escaped from prison. Did you know that?"

Lars sat up. "When did this happen?"

"A few days ago."

"Oh no, she might come _here,_" groaned Lars. "I can't let her find me…I have to get out…"

"Yes, that's all very well and good, but I need something from you."

"What?" Lars snapped. He looked genuinely upset now.

"Have you received an orange hairpin in the post recently?"

Lars didn't say anything for a few moments. "I got it about a week ago. Do you need it for something?"

Francis nodded. "I need it and four others for my…mission. If I collect all five before your sister gets five black pins then I will save Elisabeta's life. If not, your sister will kill her."

Lars cursed. "The pin's on the table. Next to the black one. It's got a note in it."

Francis went cold. "You have the black pin as well?"

Lars buried his face in his hands. "It means she's definitely coming here, doesn't it?"

"I'm…very sorry." Francis didn't quite understand why this man didn't want to see his sister. Maybe it was because she had been killing innocent women, or perhaps the fact that she was obsessed with him and wanted to not only be his sister, but also his wife.

That was probably it.

He picked up the orange hairpin on the side table. It truly was orange—the steel of the pin had been dyed orange, and there were orange flowers—simple blossoms, really, perhaps they were posies?—melded onto one end.

The black hairpin was exactly the same, except it was all pitch black. In addition, the flowers that were melded onto the end were roses.

Francis thanked Lars for his time and slipped the pin into his pocket. He considered taking Bella's, but it could just send her after _him, _and that was something he didn't want at all.

It wasn't until he was outside that he read what was on the note.

In the same curvy handwriting that The Rose had used on the note, there were two words.

_Seis Tomatos._

* * *

**AN: Seis Tomatos? What could that mean?**

**It's too bad that none of you have any idea. I really wish I could write up the older stories for you, but this one would actually be a multi-chapter and it's not really necessary to the story. I'll try to be as vague as possible when Francis figures out what the clue means. **

**Hint: Seis is not describing the number of tomatoes.**

**The next chapter may be unnecessarily depressing. People get stabbed in bad places. You have been warned.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_In which another case is unearthed and a life is ended before even beginning._

Seis Tomatos.

_Seis Tomatos._

He'd asked someone on the train back to Paris what they thought it meant, and they said it meant "Six Tomatoes", though the six was in Spanish and the tomatoes were in Italian.

Why _six _tomatoes? Why not five, or seven? And tomatoes weren't even growing now, it was winter, the ground would be covered in snow, unless it was a hot region.

Maybe it wasn't about the number of tomatoes. Maybe it was just pointing out the number six and tomatoes. They were related, but not together. Tomatoes, tomatoes…

His mind immediately went to the tomato farm his friend Antonio worked at. Ah, yes, but it would be more than working there now, wouldn't it, Antonio? Francis grinned. Ever since that case in Sicily, it was clear that the daughter of the tomato farm's owner and Antonio would be getting _much _closer than employee and boss…

Funny enough, weren't there _six murders _in the case in Sicily? Each one a man that had set his sights on the farm's owner's daughter, Romana Vargas. All except Antonio, which became obvious enough with time. Yes, six murders on a tomato farm.

Some had blamed the mafia, but Francis knew better. They weren't the mafia's style, and they were far too randomly spaced. He'd searched for clues in vain until giving up on that and deciding to pursue the young lady while Elisabeta distracted her current suitor.

That was when he learned the truth about the killer. But everything had worked out.

So, the six murders on the tomato farm. Perhaps they were connected with this next clue?

As soon as he arrived back in his beautiful city, he forced himself to leave again, catching a train to Rome, where he could easily find a boat to Sicily.

Well, the boat was easy to find. Easy to travel on, well, that was a little different.

There was a storm that hit the day after Francis boarded, so they were stuck in it for at least a week before they miraculously managed to land on the island Francis needed to be on. He literally ran off the boat and lost his lunch in a nearby bush.

It was time to find that tomato farm.

He still remembered the vague location, but it still took him three and a half days of asking random villagers on the road and people in inns if they'd heard of the Vargas farm. Most hadn't, but he was lucky enough to find a worker—obviously new, since Francis didn't know him—who took him there late at night after drinking in the inn with his friends from town.

"You here to see the daughter?" the man asked when Francis explained his mission. The Frenchman nodded, and the man gave a low whistle. "Man, good luck. That Spanish bastard's been courtin' her for _months. _It's disgustin', really. Gettin' her flowers and singin' and shit." He shivered. "There's no way you'll top it."

"I don't plan to. She simply has something I need."

The man grinned lecherously as he stumbled through the dark. "She's got somethin' we _all _need, my friend. But she ain't givin' it up."

Francis smiled serenely. "I think what I have in mind is a little different from you, but I must agree, she is very pretty. In fact, I think she may be the sister of a girl I met not too long ago."

"She has a sister? Damn! She good-lookin' too?"

"Well, she was before she was poisoned."

That made the man shut up.

By the time they got back, the sun had already risen a hand's width above the horizon. The man cursed at the sight of the farm and ran toward the wooden fence posts, where a small yet intimidating figure waited for him, holding a…rolling pin?

"Giuseppe! I didn't think you were going to show up for work today!" they yelled from afar. "Good thing I can _always _count on you, right?"

The man huffed and puffed up to the small figure while Francis trailed behind, content to observe. "I-I'm sorry, Miss Vargas, it's just I met this guy down at Gabriel's inn and he said he wanted to see you, and I tried to talk him out of it, bein' as you don't like to see strange men like him since they're always askin' for work, but I couldn't shake 'im off so I brought 'im with me. He's comin' up now." The man, apparently named Giuseppe, turned around and pointed at Francis, who was closing in on the fence, Giuseppe, and Romana Vargas.

She smacked Giuseppe on the arm with her rolling pin. "You idiot, that's a friend of mine from France. He solved a problem for us before you even showed up. Go get to work."

"Of course, Miss!" He saluted the young woman and ran off toward the fields.

Romana's glare stayed fixed on her face as she turned her gaze to Francis. "And to whom do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mr. Bonnefois?"

Francis grinned. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

She rolled her eyes. "You look hungry. You haven't been eating enough, obviously. Come in, I'll put some food in you." She grabbed Francis and dragged him to the little house that was only about fifty yards away. "Where's that friend of yours, the pretty one? Eliza, or something?"

"Elisabeta has decided to stay in Austria-Hungary with her husband for the time being," Francis replied. "I'm on a case on my own this time."

"That's too bad. I liked her. She told me lots of things, useful things. Things I'm not repeating, so don't ask," she added sharply.

Once they were in the house, Romana shoved him into a chair and walked to a small stove covered in pots and pans. "You good with pasta with tomato sauce? It's what we've got."

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry—"

"Shut it. You're too skinny. I'm just putting some meat on your bones." She filled a clean plate with hot pasta and tomato sauce with huge chunks of the fruit, then poured a liberal serving of parmesan cheese on top. She handed it to him with a fork. "I expect you to _clean _that plate. Oh, and since you're obviously going to starve yourself again as soon as you leave, take a bushel of tomatoes. They're by the door. And eat them all."

"Yes, ma'am." He dug in. It was quite good, even though it had been forced on him. "Oh, by the way, do you have a sister?"

She brightened up. "You mean Felicia? You know her?"

Francis swallowed. "Yes, actually, she was working as a maid at Elisabeta's house."

"Really? How's she doing? Is she eating well enough?" Romana asked, firing the questions at him at top speed.

"Well, she _was _doing well, and it was her eating that actually caused, er…" God, this was the worst part of the job. This was literally the first time he'd seen Romana Vargas smile, _ever, _and now he was going to tell her that the sister she apparently adored had died because of him.

"Because of what? She's okay, isn't she?" Romana asked anxiously, her smile slipping.

Francis sighed. "She's dead."

Romana stopped. Her whole body seemed to just stop moving altogether, and it went very quiet in the room until she fell to her knees on the kitchen floor. "…Dead? What do you mean, dead? Feli can't die. Feli is Feli! She always runs from the danger, and it never catches her! What do you mean, dead?!" she screamed at Francis, fat tears welling up in her golden eyes.

"She was making pasta, and just before she served it, she took a taste, and someone had slipped a poison into it and she died. If it makes you feel any better, she wasn't _supposed _to die. It was supposed to be Elisabeta, or me. Not her." Francis looked down at the crushed girl.

"How is that supposed to make me feel _better? _You _bastard! Feli is dead because of you? AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO JUST WALTZ IN HERE AND TELL ME?!" _

"I…"

"Get out. Get out of my house." She pointed at the door. "Now."

"I understand that you're upset, but—"

"_Upset? _That is the understatement of the fucking year! Get out of my house before I call all my workers in to _make _you!"

Francis stood up. "Okay. I will leave. But there is something I need from you first."

"You aren't getting _shit, _you bastard." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Did you receive an orange hairpin recently? With a note?" Francis asked desperately.

Romana suddenly went very quiet. "How do you know about that?"

"I need that pin. I need it to save Elisabeta's life. Without it, she could get killed, gruesomely by what the person after her has done before."

"I…did get a pin. Yes. It came with a note on my name on it, and whoever wrote it…_knew._"

"Knew what?"

"None of your business!" she replied quickly. "I'll go get the damn thing." She left the kitchen for a moment, then reemerged holding the orange hairpin in both hands. "Here. Take it and go." She flung it at Francis, who caught it before it hit the ground.

It was exactly the same as the one that Lars Peeters had, except the flowers were a darker shade of orange. In fact, they were nearly red when you looked at them in a certain light…

Mesmerized as he was with the pin, Francis failed to notice the crazed blonde woman enter the kitchen until she was nearly upon him with a knife.

He helped and dodged her thrust just before it hit his heart. It glanced off his shoulder, ripping open his shirt but luckily not breaking any skin, and she spun back around to go at him again, but brave, angry, upset, _stupid _Romana had to shout, "Hey! Who are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

The woman turned to Romana slowly and smiled sweetly at her. "Oh, I'm Bella Peeters, and I'm here to kill everyone until I get my black pin. And that includes _you, _sweetheart." With a feral cry, she launched herself at Romana.

The girl barely blocked the knife with the rolling pin she had been carrying early. _Barely. _Bella just grinned maniacally and kicked Romana between the legs, causing her to wince and loosen her grip on the rolling pin. The Belgian woman laughed and knocked it away. Romana backed away quickly, but Bella lunged at her again, aiming for the stomach.

This time, she didn't miss.

The knife held fast in Romana's belly as the Sicilian girl sunk to the floor numbly. By then, Francis had gathered his wits and grabbed Bella in a headlock. She twisted and struggled, but Francis' adrenaline was pumping and he wouldn't let her go.

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen burst open. A sweaty and shirtless Antonio was holding it open, panting slightly. "What's going on? Romana?" He surveyed the scene and ran to the young girl immediately. _"Romana!"_

"I'm…fine, Antonio," she said slowly, panting at each ellipsis. "It's not even that deep, see?" She tugged the knife out slowly, wincing. "It…only went in an inch or two."

Antonio's large green eyes were full of worry. "No! We must get you to a doctor, or who knows what might happen?"

"Yes, that's all very well and good, but you'll have to get through me and this horrible woman here first," Francis said. Antonio spun around and caught sight of Francis.

"Francis? What are you doing here? Who is that?"

"She attacked Romana. Tell me, you wouldn't happen to have a black hairpin on you, would you?"

Antonio's eyes went dark, and it seemed he ignored everything after _She attacked Romana. _"She did this?"

"She's a serial killer from Belgium, out for Elisabeta's life. You remember Elisabeta. Brown hair, slept with the Portuguese man, you know Elisabeta."

"I'll kill the bitch!" Bella said cheerfully from the headlock. "You mark my words, I will! Don't try and stop me just 'cause you've got me, the Rose will get you for it and she'll make you pay!"

Antonio was very confused at this point. "And what was that about a hairpin?" he said finally.

"Give it to her, and then let her go. If we keep her she'll just cause more trouble. She'll go if she gets what she wants."

Bella nodded, or tried to at least.

Antonio fished around in his pockets until he produced a small black hairpin with a piece of paper stuck in it. Francis released Bella, who grabbed the hairpin greedily and ran off.

Romana gave a soft sigh from the other end of the tiny kitchen, and Francis and Antonio were both next to her in an instant. "What's wrong, _querida?_" Antonio whispered. He stroked her hair. "I know it hurts, but we will get you to a doctor—"

Francis was cursing himself for never asking Elisabeta how to take care of wounds when Romana said, "It hurts, yes, but…I'm sorry!" She burst into tears.

Antonio started to panic. "No no no, do not apologize, you have done nothing wrong! Romana!"

"I never told you, I'm sorry, Antonio, and now it is too late…"

"Never told me what?" Antonio asked frantically. He planted soft kisses all over her sweaty face to calm her down. "What is it?"

"I was…with child," Romana said quietly. "And I did not tell you because I did not know what to do about it, but she has stabbed me and I fear for the child now. And for my ability to have children in the future." Tears started to slip down her face.

"Oh, my Romana, it is not so bad! As long as you are okay, we can worry about that later. I would rather have a safe Romana than hurting Romana. Let's take you to the doctor." She nodded.

Francis realized the situation was in good hands and stood awkwardly. "Well, I've, er, got to go now, Elisabeta's life is in more danger by the second and I really wish I could stay and help but I can't so I've got to go." He gave a small bow. "Thank you, and I'm sorry once again." He walked slowly to the door, remembered that Romana had wanted him to take some tomatoes (she might not still, but hey, free tomatoes), then dashed out to the road before anyone could see him or his shame.

Within a week he had caught a boat back to Rome. Down in his cabin, he finally looked at the note that had come with the hairpin.

It said, _The Drunken Baker's Bastard._

* * *

Romana and Antonio did go see a doctor as seen as they were able to bind up the wound properly. Unfortunately, the closest thing to a doctor for miles was an elderly woman who had an herb garden. She told them Romana would likely be fine, maybe even able to have children years down the road, as long as she let the wound heal properly and didn't strain herself, but the baby was lost.

Romana cried for the rest of the day. Antonio wanted to stay and comfort her, but she ordered him to go back to work or he might be fired.

She finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, not being able to thanks to the tears. When she woke up, there was a cloth bag on the table next to her bed. With it came a note.

_Use these in your tea until they run out, and you'll be able to have a baby again soon. I sincerely apologize for the injuries sustained thanks to me. This is the best I can do for now._

_-The Rose_

The bag was full of herbs. Romana's lips quirked up into a tiny grin, and she went downstairs with the herbs to make herself a cup of tea.

* * *

**AN: Don't ask me what the mystical herbs the Rose gave Romana were. I don't know. We'll just say it was Chemical X. The next time Romana gives birth it will be to the Powerpuff Girls. Except instead Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, they'll call them Felicia (after, well, Felicia), Francesca (after Francis), and Flovina (which is like Lovina, Romana's nonna, but with an F). Which I don't think is a name but it started with an F!**

**I feel like battles involving cooking implements is becoming sort of a theme. I'll have to remember that for the next story.**

**The whole thing with Francis telling Romana about Felicia's death wasn't in the original plans. I just put that in because it was three in the morning and I was tired and stupid.**

**I hope you enjoyed! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_In which there is a holy union stemmed from sin._

Francis, after stepping off of the unholy death machine that was the boat back to Rome, took two days to rest in Rome. It was a lovely city, and it gave him a chance to clear his head of the fog that had accumulated thanks to seasickness.

He thought over what he'd done so far since receiving the first note. He'd researched quite a lot, and that had led him to the crossroads of Lion Lane and Rooster Road, right where he'd first met Elisabeta.

Then he'd deduced what the six tomatoes were, and that took him to where his first full case with Elisabeta took place—the tomato farm in Sicily.

Come to think of it, the first note from the Rose said she was a huge fan of his and Elisabeta's, as long as they were together. It seemed to be true. He or she knew all about their cases and what happened and where they took place.

Maybe that _in itself _was a clue.

This meant that the next pin would be in Russia, where the next case had been after they took that break during November to relax after Francis was almost decapitated. Elisabeta had decided to stay with him in Paris instead of going home, and thinking of it made Francis smile.

He shook his head to clear away those irrelevant thoughts. No. Russia. The clue was _The Drunken Baker's Bastard. _Was that who _held _the pin? Someone in Russia who was a drunken baker's bastard?

Yeah, that narrowed it down.

He thought of the case. Katya Braginski had read about him in a newspaper years earlier when she was visiting Kiev for her ailing grandmother. He'd just solved a case there, something with stolen jewels or something. She remembered him when high-ranking officials in her little town had started dropping like flies. Francis thought the case looked interesting, and it led to spending Christmas with Elisabeta in Russia. Well, Elisabeta, as well as Katya Braginski and her alcoholic little brother, Ivan, and her little sister with the baby.

The baby…

She'd never said who the baby's father was, so Francis had sent Elisabeta to investigate, more out of curiosity than necessity to the case. But oh, when he'd found out who the father was (really, who the _fathers _were), it became the key to the case.

It had all ended a bit strangely, actually. Francis decided not to dwell on it.

Still, something about the baby was nagging him. That baby's father was certainly not married to young Natalia Braginski. Didn't that make it…

Oh, yes.

So that explained the bastard, but what about the drunken baker? Ivan was an alcoholic, but he wasn't a baker.

Perhaps it was another play on words, like the six tomatoes. None of the words were connected in the way they first appeared. Francis had figured out that the bastard was Natalia's little baby, and the drunk was probably referring to the fact that Ivan had been the main suspect thanks to his drinking and his hatred for the thirteen men who were dying.

Thirteen.

One more than twelve, which was a dozen, but at bakeries they always gave you an extra because it was a _baker's _doz—

Baker!

The fourth pin was definitely in Russia.

Francis finally made it the tiny town he'd solved a series of gruesome murders in not two months ago. It was still covered in snow, but the sun was in the middle of the sky and the place seemed deserted.

The whole town seemed empty, except for the church, actually. Francis clutched his luggage in his hands, the basket of nearly-ripe tomatoes under one arm, and tromped toward the little church at the end of the road.

The doors were open, which was a bit foolish thanks to the snow, but he was ushered in with a smile and he took a seat toward the back. The building was crowded, but it wasn't a preacher at the front of the church. Well, it was, but there was also a man in what was clearly his best suit, looking nervous. Happy, but nervous.

Francis realized he had stumbled upon a wedding.

Music started to play and he turned around. Coming up the aisle in a lovely gown, clutching her brother's arm, was Natalia Braginski.

She was positively enchanting, and Francis wished Elisabeta was there to see her. He wondered what Elisabeta's wedding had been like. Obviously much fancier, and not so Russian Orthodox. She would have been wearing a white dress with a long train which was a bigger lie than the love she'd be professing to Roderich, and—

No. This was not the time to be thinking about that.

Ivan had given Natalia to the man waiting at the altar. The priest started on a very long service which included lots of too-long pauses where sniffling (probably from Katya Braginski) could be heard. Finally, though, the important parts began.

"Do you, Toris Laurinaitis, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife…"

Toris! That was his name! He'd been in the case as well! What was he doing here marrying Natalia Braginski? Good for him, but there was somewhere else he should be.

Well, it was Russia. They did things weird in this country. It froze their brains.

"And do you, Natalia Braginski, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband…"

That boy did dote on Natalia, though. He remembered during the case, he'd always hover around her when Francis would ask uncomfortable questions. She really didn't need protecting from the likes of Francis, though. The likes of other people, maybe, but that wasn't neither here nor there.

Suddenly, there was cheering. Oh! They'd kissed. Francis set the tomatoes on one of his suitcases and stood up to clap.

There was a party being held next door, at someone's house. Francis followed the crowd there, taking his luggage and the tomatoes with him. He honestly didn't know what to do with them.

He met the bride and groom soon enough, though. And when Katya noticed him, she immediately gave him a hug that nearly suffocated him. She took his luggage and handed it to Ivan and ordered him to store it away. The man only smiled and lumbered away. Francis feared for his poor luggage.

"Come! You haven't seen Natalia yet!" Katya had dragged him over to where the for once blushing bride sat, surrounded by other women and her baby.

"Detective Bonnefois?" she asked when he approached, startled by his appearance. "You're here for my wedding?"

"Congratulations!" Francis pointedly avoided the question. "I brought you some tomatoes!" He shoved the tomatoes onto the lap of the nearest giggling girl, then bowed to kiss the newly married woman's hand. "I need to discuss something with you. In private."

The girls all giggled and Natalia frowned. "Not now."

"It's important."

"More important than this?"

"Elisabeta could _die," _Francis said desperately.

Natalia glared at him. "How long will this take?" she asked.

Francis smiled. "Five minutes at the most. May I say you look absolutely lovely," he added when she sighed and rose to follow Francis to a secluded spot to talk.

"Thank you," she replied. She dragged him out the back door and into a shed. It was dirty and smelly and she fidgeted with her dress, but Francis cut straight to the point.

"Do you have an orange hairpin that you received recently?"

Natalia blinked. "How do you know about that?" she asked.

"I need it to save Elisabeta's life."

Natalia nodded. "I see. Take it." She pulled one of the many pins out of her hair and handed it to Francis.

It was another steel hairpin, all orange except for the blossoms on the end. These were a dark red. Francis wondered what they meant.

"Did they come with a note?" he asked.

"Yes." She reached into the front of her dress and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Go crazy."

Francis briefly wondered why she would want to store this of all things _there, _but decided not to think about it too much. He opened the door to the shed and she stalked out to go back to the party. Francis followed close behind her so he could find Katya and tell her he'd need his bags back _now. _

He'd read the next clue, and it had given him a chill. It read, _The Fifth Red Sister of Death._

* * *

**AN: Damn, this was short. It wasn't as important, though. I tried to give away as little as possible about the case titled _The Brothers Braginski. _But I'm afraid I didn't do a very good job.**

**But you know about the next case that's covered! Because it's _Murder on the Vargas Express!_**

**Natalia isn't a crazy murdering insaneopants because she's too happy from just being married, even if it is to Toris. She does sort of owe him. But you don't really know what for. That's a story for another time. ;) But she does love him! She's not just marrying him out of obligation. **

**Someone returns next chapter, and that someone will provide a direct tie-in to the sequel to this, which I don't know much about yet but it will involve Nordics.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_In which reasons hold answers, and a circle is made._

Fifth Red Sister of Death? That was even more obscure than the other ones!

Francis closed his eyes. He was in his bed on the train back to Paris. It wasn't the Vargas Express this time, this was a train that was a bit faster (which he thought was ironic), and he'd be back in Paris by the next day. So really, it wasn't a bit faster, but quite a lot faster.

It helped that the tracks through Austria-Hungary had been cleared. Maybe if they stopped there, he could get off to visit Elisabeta and warn her—but no, if he did that the Rose would sic Bella on them without getting the last of the pins.

He forced his mind back to the latest clue. Fifth Red Sister of Death. Okay. What the _hell _did that mean?

It had to be related to the case on the train back to Paris, but the only sister on that train was Lilli, and her brother hadn't died, though _she _had. Oh, and Elisabeta, but Francis had a feeling she didn't count.

Who was Death? Did he really have five sisters? Did they all have colors? Maybe Death was one of the people who had died on the train. That narrowed it down to Yao, Alfred, Lilli, and Ludwig. Okay. Did any of them have five sisters?

Not likely.

But now that he thought of it, Yao _did _have a sister. He'd told Francis all about her when they'd first started their journey, though Francis hadn't been listening. And it was because of her and her baby that Yao had been murdered in the first place.

But what did the five and the red mean? Francis thought hard about the color. Colors could be anything, so it was easier to relate things to them. He thought about the little he knew of Mei Wang. She was Yao's sister, she'd had Arthur Kirkland's son Li when she was relatively young, and she was from China.

He focused on that. Countries usually had ambiguous meanings as well. China was strange to Francis, because he'd never been there and it was in Asia. He'd heard it was beautiful, though, but that they had things a little backwards. Like how, instead of wearing white at weddings, they'd wear _red _because it symbolized celebration.

Red!

There was that. But what about the "fifth" thing?

He was almost positive the clue was about Mei Wang. Mei. Mei Mei Mei. Maybe Mei? He thought about Mei in other languages. May meant "perhaps", but it was also a month in English, wasn't it? It was May. The fifth month.

The _fifth _month.

Mei, May, the fifth month, who'd been jilted, but instead of a white wedding dress she would have been waiting in red, and had caused her brother's death.

Francis smirked. He was so smart. But his mood quickly turned sour. How was he supposed to find Mei Wang? She lived in China, for God's sake! And even then, he'd be asking for a girl he'd never met in a country he'd never been in. It could take _years _to find her.

But no, the Rose wanted him to find her soon. That meant she would have had to be a little more accessible. He'd have to go to places related to her. Hell, maybe she'd be in town.

But why would she be in Paris?

Francis groaned. He'd sleep on it and start back on the case when he was back in his city.

* * *

It had been a week since he'd arrived and he had absolutely _nothing._

The Rose frowned. Watching Francis pace around his apartment wasn't very fun, and Bella was extremely close to finding her fourth pin. Francis, meanwhile, was going nowhere. Maybe the clue was too difficult for him.

No, that wasn't it. He'd talked to customs officials about Mei Wang as soon as he'd entered the country. What he failed to do was ask _again. _He had actually been ahead of schedule and she hadn't arrived in the country yet.

But now he was annoyingly _behind _schedule, and the Rose was getting bored.

She glanced over at the Chinese teenager squirming in the corner of the room. Mei would have left already if her beloved son hadn't been taken one night on the way home from a cheap dinner. That would keep her in the city until the Rose's business was done.

The Rose knew what they were doing was wrong, but it wasn't all a terrible thing to do. After all, when Bella found her pin, the boy would meet his father. That wasn't so bad, was it?

Still, the issue with Francis' mental block had to be dealt with immediately. She didn't want to give him too much help, but she didn't want Elisabeta to die. At least, not yet.

The Rose wanted to hear her scream for it as she watched everything around her burn first.

* * *

Francis was currently trying to rip his own hair out. Times were desperate. Normally he wouldn't let malevolent hands anywhere near his beautiful mane, but he was so upset that there was nothing else he could do.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He let his hands drop to his sides before stalking over to it and opening it.

There was a young boy standing there, holding a pristine white envelope. "Letter, sir."

Francis snatched the letter out of the boy's hands and slammed the door in his face. He was too stressed to be nice. Every minute he spent not finding these stupid things was a minute Bella was using to find hers and kill his best friend.

The letter was sealed with a bit of wax in the shape of a rose. Francis tore it open.

Once again, the overpowering scent of roses hit his nostrils. He opened the note and read the loopy script.

_You've disappointed me. Tell me, did you ever think to look for Miss Wang? Did you ever consider that she might have entered the city _after _you?_

_Perhaps you should do some praying for an answer. I hear the church where the police bury the bodies of unclaimed victims and criminals is a good place for divine inspiration._

_-The Rose_

The Rose sounded frustrated, but Francis wasn't complaining. He'd practically _given _Francis Mei's location.

He'd just have to go there and wait.

And wait he did, until even the priest had left and extinguished all of the candles. He would have made Francis leave as well, but Francis had given him an excellent tale which included all of his cases and his long lost love looking for him because she believed him dead and buried in the cemetery. And what a surprise it would be for her to see him waiting for her, alive? The priest had allowed him to stay as long as he didn't steal anything.

Francis had nearly fallen asleep when the doors to the little church opened at three thirty in the morning and a small figure walked through timidly.

He immediately hopped up, though, when they passed by him to sit in front of the altar with their eyes closed. Francis walked up behind them slowly, careful not to make a squeak, and tapped them on the shoulder.

They shrieked, jumped up, and kicked Francis right in his male genitalia.

Francis fell to the ground and they put one small foot on his stomach and asked, in very bad French, "Who are you?"

"Mercy," Francis said. "Mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy," he repeated in every language he knew.

"Who are you?" they repeated in English.

"My name is Francis Bonnefois. I'm a detective. Are you Mei Wang?" He wanted so badly to grasp himself to ease the burning pain. He was pretty sure she'd kicked him so hard something had popped.

The pressure on his stomach lessened slightly. "How do you know my name?" she asked.

"I was there when your brother died. My best friend held him in her arms and tried to help him, but he bled to death. I caught the killer and I know why it happened. _Please, _let me stand up."

She removed her foot from his stomach and Francis sat up slowly, mindful of the pain in his most sensitive area. "Thank you." He took a minute to grab a pew and pull himself into it. Mei lit a candle so they could get a better look at each other.

She seemed a little older than thirty, but she was still beautiful. Long, black hair framed her face and she had chocolate eyes that sparkled, though probably not as brightly as they had when she was young and not a mother. She wore a thick coat and seemed to be shivering. It certainly was cold in the church.

"Were you here looking for me?" she asked quietly. Francis nodded. "What for? Why would you need to see me?"

"First of all, to apologize for not saving your brother."

"But you said you found his killer. That is apology enough." Her eyes softened and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Even if his killer was a man I once loved."

Francis now felt uncomfortable. "No longer?"

She smiled sadly. "He made it clear what he felt about me. I met a nice young man from Japan. He has been lovely to me, but I insisted he did not come with me to France. He didn't know Yao, and I wanted it to be myself and my son only."

"Where is your son?" Unless the boy was invisible, he hadn't come into the church.

Mei took her hand from Francis' shoulder and sat down next to him in the pew. "We were walking home from dinner and…two men in masks came out of nowhere. They attacked us, and Yao taught us kung fu before he died, but we could not defend ourselves. They took Lee." She seemed to be fighting back tears now.

"I will help you find your son, Mei. I swear on it. But I have a question for you first."

"What is it? If you will help me find my son, I will do anything." She looked at him with her huge brown eyes, full of vulnerability, and Francis saw something there that reminded him of when he had been younger, training to be in the police, when he had first met _her._

He pushed all that aside and replied, "Have you received an orange hairpin recently?"

She didn't respond for a moment, but then laughed. "You say you're a detective but you didn't even notice?" She pulled something out of her hair and handed it to Francis. "It's been in my hair this whole time. It's quite lovely. Do you need it for something?"

Francis looked at the pin. It was orange, but the blossoms at the end were cherry red. It was the fourth orange pin. "I'm sorry, but I must take this from you. Did it come with a note of some sort?"

"Yes." She fished around in the pockets of her coat, then finally pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "This is it. It's in French, so I don't know what it says."

"Thank you very much." He pocketed it and the pin without reading it. "That was all I needed."

"What about my son?" Mei asked. "You promised to help me find him."

"Of course I will! But it is late. Let us meet tomorrow over lunch. Now is not the right time to be discussing such things, nor is it the place." He gave her the address of a café he enjoyed, then escorted her to the street, and she told him she could find her way home. They set off in different directions.

Francis opened the note just as he was about to go to bed.

_Necessity's Moribund Bride._

He let the note fall to the ground and closed his eyes. Brides again, huh? It took him back to his thoughts of Elisabeta's wedding. She had told him all about why she was getting married. Her brother and Roderich's sister were supposed to actually, but Daniel had died in a hunting accident and Maria couldn't bear to live without him and threw herself off one of the towers in the castle Elisabeta had grown up in. Her marriage had been all about necessity, really…

Francis' eyes snapped open. It was Elisabeta! She had the fifth orange pin!

He jumped out of bed and ran to the train station. Mei and Lee Wang could wait. He had a best friend to save.

* * *

"Excuse me, but are you Arthur Kirkland?" a sweet voice asked.

Arthur looked up from the floor of his cell. It was the middle of the night, but he wasn't sleeping. How could he, when he was stuck in some stupid French prison? The place was a nightmare.

Standing in the lamplight of the hall in front of his cell was a blonde girl with a knife. She smiled sweetly at him. "Unless my name has changed without my knowledge, then I am. Who is asking?"

Her smile grew wider. "The girl who will set you free."

"Set me free? That sounds delightful. What happens to be the price?"

"A black hairpin."

Arthur held out his hand and opened it. Sitting on his palm was a black hairpin and a small slip of paper. "You mean like this one?"

The blonde girl inserted a key into the lock of the cell door, and it swung open. _"Exactly _like that one."

She snatched it away from him and read the note. "Oh ho ho. It seems that I will be going to Austria. But first, I must take you to my friend."

"Friend?" Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Don't worry, you know them. They just have someone for you to meet, and then they'll set you on your merry way. It shouldn't take long." She took his hand without his permission and led him out the cell and down the hall, past more prison cells with inmates angry at being woken, and past guards lying on the ground with their throats slashed.

Arthur supposed this was better than sitting on the cold floor of a prison in France. Now he could go to Sweden (or was it Finland?) and find his stupid, estranged son.

Right after he met this girl's friend, of course.

* * *

**AN: Oh, skiddleywhiffers. Arthur's escaped! Francis knows where the fifth orange pin is! Lee Wang is going to meet his father! Bella is headed for Austria! And the Rose seems to have a seriously deep hatred for Elisabeta. This can only mean one thing.**

**The next chapter is the last chapter (before the epilogue)!**

**There's going to be a seriously crazy (and totally not done before in billions of other fanfictions what are you talking about well you'll see when you read it in two weeks or so) revelation about Francis in that epilogue. BE PREPARED.**

**And no, TaiwanxJapan probably isn't going to be that big of a thing. I really have no idea at this point, though. The future of this thing is really vague to me. All I have planned is sort of what'll happen in the next story, who the Rose is (you're welcome to guess), and an incredibly sad scene which might not even happen.**

**EDIT: And also, sorry it took weeks for me to update. I kinda forgot about this story. I got really into Homestuck, and, yeah. There's a Homestuck fanfic up if you want to read it! (That still doesn't mean forgiveness, does it?) And I'm going to FallCon. I hope if you're there you come and say hi! I'll be in the black wig with the horns and the red sweater and no facepaint. Yeah. Say hi if you see me.**

**I should stop talking now. I hope you enjoyed! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_In which a man kills over the life of his love._

The train station was still open at four in the morning, thanks to arrivals at around that time, but the sleepy attendant told him that a train to Austria wouldn't be leaving until later that morning. He was welcome to wait, though, and so he did, but not before taking up about a half an hour to go home and grab something very important.

He slept fitfully on a cold bench on a platform, either platform nine or platform ten. Finally, at about nine, the train the attendant had told him about arrived, and he boarded. He realized belatedly that he had no luggage, not thinking to get any when he returned home, but he didn't care as much about that as he did that he was about to save his best friend's life.

There were several delays, however, and the train did not arrive when it should have. Snow on the tracks pushed back the arrival time to almost exactly ten o'clock. This did not deter Francis, and he managed to catch a train to Altstadt just in time.

That train arrived at around midnight, and Francis hopped off of it and ran to Elisabeta and Roderich's home, ignoring the time and the fact that Elisabeta would almost certainly be sleeping. He was dressed warmly, thanks to his meeting earlier with Mei Wang, so the cold did not bother him, and he quickly arrived at Edelstein Manor.

The manor was dark, and it seemed to Francis that not a soul was awake. He tried ringing the doorbell three times, but no one answered. He finally decided to break in. The sooner he got in there, the better.

All the windows, of course, would be bolted shut. It was the middle of winter and the house was cold enough as it was without windows opening all the time. But maybe a back door?

Yes! He cheered silently when he found the servants' entrance unlocked. He'd have to talk to Elisabeta and Roderich about that. After all, with that entrance unlocked, _anyone _could sneak in.

He sneaked through the kitchen, the dining room, and finally he made it to the grand hallway. It was completely dark, and he stumbled a few times before finally reaching the stairs.

When he made it to the top, he had to remember where Elisabeta and Roderich's room was. But there was no time for thinking like that! He'd never even been there! So he started at the end of the hall, throwing doors open and looking inside for people sleeping. He found several guest rooms, a drawing room, a few bathrooms, and a number of sitting rooms, but no master bedroom! Why was it so hard to find?

Finally, the only door left was the one on the far end of the hallway from where he'd started. Of _course _it was. He threw the door open.

There! Two shapes under the blankets on the humongous bed. He'd found them.

Francis had been awake for a very long time by this point, but he was still running on adrenaline. So it's kind of understandable that the first thing he did when he saw Elisabeta and Roderich was yell, "Elisabeta! Roderich! Wake up! _Your lives are in danger!"_

Elisabeta, not liking being woken up in such a fashion, threw a pillow at him. Francis made an exasperated noise. "Come on!" He ran up to the bed, and started looking around the table next to it. "You have to wake up and help me!"

"Wha…Francis?" Elisabeta mumbled as she opened her eyes and saw the Frenchman going through her things. "Francis!"

Francis looked back at Elisabeta. He put his hands on her shoulders as she slowly started to sit up. "Elisabeta. I have something very important to ask you."

"Yeah, and I have something to ask you—are you _drunk? _Or just _crazy?" _She whispered ferociously.

"Neither! Listen, there is something that you have that I need so that you won't get killed!"

"Get kill—Francis, what the hell?" She threw her arms into the air. "Just what the hell?"

"I don't have time to explain!" Roderich was waking up now, too. He sat up in his bed and looked over at where his wife was being accosted by her best friend.

"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted.

"_Do you have an orange hairpin?" _Francis yelled. "Do you or do you not? I need an answer!"

Elisabeta looked confused. "Of course I do. I wear it ever day. It has pink flowers on the end."

"Where is it? I need—"

He was interrupted by a large crash. The three in the room looked toward the window.

Someone had broken it, and that someone was standing in a pile of glass just next to it, while the winter winds blew in around them. "Hello, Elisabeta, Francis, Elisabeta's husband."

"Bella!" Francis exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Wait, Bella?" Elisabeta was wide-awake now. "You don't mean…?"

"I'm here to collect my fifth pin from Elisabeta's husband and then kill my former best friend. Nothing too big."

"No." Francis pulled something out of the folds of his coat and pointed it at her. "I've stopped you once, and I can stop you again."

Bella just laughed. "Where did you get that gun, anyway? It looks ancient. And I doubt you could hit me if I were a wall."

"For your information, I was top in my class in marksmanship at the police academy," Francis replied coolly. "And you're not even five meters away."

"That's a good point," Bella mused, "but would you really shoot me?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Francis took aim.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I know who the Rose is?"

"The Rose? Who is the Rose? What's going on, Francis?" Elisabeta asked shakily. "Why is Bella here?"

"To kill you. Weren't you listening, you tramp?" the Belgian girl snapped. Elisabeta shivered. Nearly being stabbed to death repeatedly by the same person standing only a few feet away from you can make a person nervous.

"Basically there are five orange pins and five black ones, and if I get the orange ones before she gets the black ones your life is safe! But I have them all, so you can't kill her!" cried Francis, opening his palm to show all five orange pins glinting in the moonlight.

"That's not what I was told. The Rose just said, 'Get your five black pins and your kill is secure. But if Francis gets his orange pins first, it could be a little more difficult." Bella grinned. "I think she just told us what we wanted to hear."

"No…" Francis' blood ran cold. So no matter what, all he was doing was effectively useless?

"I'll make you a deal, Francis," Bella said suddenly. "Drop your gun, and I'll tell you who the Rose is."

"Why would you tell me that?" Francis growled. He took aim again.

Bella put her hands up. "No tricks! I'll tell you her name, just stop trying to shoot me. It's a good deal, at least, that's what I think."

Know the name? Telling him that the Rose was female was already a clue, but a _name… _so much could be done with a name. He had to know.

Francis lowered his weapon. "This is as good as you are going to get, Miss Peeters. Tell me the name."

"Jeanne Romée."

Francis didn't move for a moment. Jeanne…Romée. He tried to process this.

No. It wasn't true. It _couldn't _be true. There had been the fire, the whole _place _was burned to a crisp, they still hadn't started reconstruction…

That could only mean one thing. Bella Peeters was a _liar. _A LIAR! And how _dare _she lie about something like that?

"Grateful?" she asked coyly.

Francis aimed the pistol. "Not in the slightest."

He fired.

Bella looked genuinely surprised. Her mouth formed a perfect "o" shape as the bullet went straight between her breasts, and red blossomed out around the hole.

She fell to the ground in silence.

* * *

**AN: So now the question remains…who is this Jeanne Romée? **

**It may be obvious to some of you, and you're probably going to guess and guess it right, but I still feel like there's an air of mystery! It'll be revealed next chapter (well, epilogue) anyway.**

**Who wants to know about what will happen in the next story? Me! Because I have no idea whatsoever. Your guess is as good as mine.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed! :D**


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_In which the band gets back together._

_Dear Francis and Elisabeta,_

_Congratulations! You have solved yet another case _and _taken out a feared mass-murderer! That deserves some applause, I think. As I write this, I'll take a short break to clap._

_Ah, that was nice. I especially liked the last "scene", if you will, of that case. I can only imagine what went through your mind, Francis, when Miss Peeters gave you my name. "She can't be telling the truth! Can she?" before you decided to shoot her. Brilliantly done. I actually wasn't expecting you to kill her, but to simply restrain her until authorities could arrive._

_That being said, it is my firm belief that the two of you work best when you're together. Elisabeta, you've had a nice vacation with your husband. It's time to get back to work, or the consequences will be much more dire._

_The holder of Bella's fourth pin was Arthur Kirkland. I know you know who that is, and I know you know him well. As did I, once…but that is all in the past. The point is, since you are partially responsible for his escape (if the two of you had not decided to stop working together, I would not have needed to help release him), you should be responsible for his recapture._

_I believe he'll be going to find his son, somewhere in Sweden or Finland. Good luck!_

_I'll be looking forward to witnessing more of your adventures._

_-The Rose_

The letter had arrived at precisely noon on the day Francis had killed Bella Peeters. He'd recognized the seal immediately, and been almost afraid to open it, but Elisabeta had taken the initiative and done it for him. "Now that you've told me all about this Rose, I figure we face her head on. And that means not being a pansy about opening letters."

But as she read it, Elisabeta grew angry. "Who does she think she is? 'You've had a nice vacation with your husband, it's time to get back to work'? Really? Who does she think she is to be able to dictate my life for me?"

"I haven't the slightest clue, my dear," Roderich replied sadly. "But I don't want you to get hurt. Why don't you go along with her demands for now to stay out of trouble?"

"That's just the thing, Roddy." Apparently while Francis had been gone, Elisabeta had started calling her husband that. "I'll be in even more trouble if I go along with it. Do you know how many times I nearly died when I was on cases with Francis? At least three. In _five cases."_

"Technically, you were already in danger before you even met me—"

"Shut up, Francis."

"I just don't want to think of what could happen if you refuse and stay here with me," Roderich said.

Elisabeta gazed up at her husband for a moment, then looked away swiftly. "You're right. Who knows what she could do? She could put you in danger, and I don't know how I could live without you." Her eyes were big with tears and she stared up at her husband.

"Elisabeta…"

"Roderich…"

"Francis," Francis cut in, knocking the two out of their stupor. They blushed simultaneously. "Now that we're finished with _that, _we need to discuss our next move. Preferably on a train to Sweden."

"Or Finland. I have a friend in Finland," Elisabeta added absentmindedly.

"We'll go to Finland first, then," Francis said.

"I'll need to pack…"

"The maids have taken the liberty of doing that for you, Miss." The three turned around and saw Chelle Dupont holding Elisabeta's suitcases. "I-It is our job."

Oh, boy. Here comes the guilt train. "Hello, Chelle." Francis attempted a smile.

"Hello, Monsieur." She looked away. "I'll just leave these here," she added quickly, dropping the bags and running, presumably for the hills.

Elisabeta couldn't help but giggle at the incredible awkwardness of the situation. "Wow."

"Please shut up."

Within an hour, Francis and Elisabeta were finally at the little town's train station. Elisabeta, it seemed, wasn't able to stop kissing her husband long enough to get on the train, and Francis literally had to manhandle her on, with the help of a porter.

Finally, the journey began, and the train was quickly out of Nowhere, Austria. Elisabeta had been fidgeting ever since she and Francis were alone, and he decided to ask her what was wrong. "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" she asked quickly, jumping a bit.

"Playing with your hands and your hair and things. You're nervous about something. What?"

Her eyes were fixed on her lap. "What was it that Bella said that made you shoot her?" she asked quietly. "Was it the name?"

Francis looked out the window. "Yes. It was the name."

"Did you…recognize the name or something? Was it someone you know?"

"…Yes."

"Well, who was it?" Elisabeta asked curiously. "An ex-lover, or a friend?"

Francis whipped his head back and stared into Elisabeta's eyes. "Jeanne Romée is the name of my wife.

"My dead wife."

* * *

**AN: Didn't see THAT coming, did you?**

**Yes you did. Oh, you totally did. I don't know right now because it will literally be a month and a half until I post this from the time I'm writing this based on my update schedule, but I know you all saw that coming.**

**Anyway, I'm going to take a short break from THIS POINT (August 6, 2012) to do my homework before writing the next story. So from your point of view, hopefully there will be no changes, but from where I am, there's going to be a gap.**

**Still, I hope I'll continue to get new chapters out every week! And if not then, well, sorry.**

**EDIT: Yeah it's closing in on November and I haven't even started on the next story yet. But I know the title! "The Disappearance of Lord Peter Kirkland." So, uh, yeah. Tumblr has been very distracting. Plus four AP classes. Plus learning to knit. Plus allstate auditions. Plus Homestuck. (My god tier is Mage of Heart! Now I feel like I have to cosplay as Meulin..)**

**Anyway. I will work on it when I have the time. (So, never.)**

**I hope you enjoyed! :D **


	7. Sequel Note!

Hi everyone! I hate these as much as you do, but it must be done for the sake of the point in which this is posted.

If you're several months in the future, this note is probably obsolete! (I say probably because I am an extremely unreliable person and you never know what I might do.) So you can skip it.

Anyway, the sequel to this story is up! It is called "The Disappearance of Lord Peter Kirkland". If you're interested in reading it, go do so now. Or bookmark it for later. Either is fine.

If this is the future and the story you are reading is _not _the precursor to the story mentioned above, then it was far too late at night for me to be posting this note and I forgot to edit it for the purposes of this particular story. Sorry!


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